


one could be two

by smithens



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: 5 Times, Dating, Dialogue Heavy, Dropping Hairpins, Extended Scene, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: "…but can you even name anything fun todoin York? One thing. That's all I ask.""Told you already I'll be there, haven't I?"Mr Barrow nearly trips.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 44
Kudos: 167





	one could be two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likehandlingroses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/gifts).



> thank you to tumblr & ao3 user thomasbarrowlesbian for sharing the released-in-nz-earlier-than-in-the-rest-of-the-world [downton abbey thomas & richard deleted scene content](https://thomasbarrowlesbian.tumblr.com/post/189624447246/)!

"…but can you even name anything fun to _do_ in York? One thing. That's all I ask."

"Told you already I'll be there, haven't I?"

As they round the corner coming down the stairs, Mr Barrow nearly trips — his own hand on the banister and Mr Ellis's on his shoulder prevent the fall.

When Mr Barrow turns around, a sharp turn in his lips and uncertainty in his eyes, Mr Ellis's laughter falters; he lets go.

The look is there in an instant and then gone, but the memory of it lingers.

Somehow, they find themselves at odds under the stairwell, each feeling cornered by the other, halfway secluded from the rest of the passage.

"I can be plenty of fun, myself, if the setting allows," says Mr Barrow eventually, guarded.

"I'll have to convince you it does."

Blithe though the words are, there is a serious set to his face, a smile that doesn't quite reach his searching eyes.

"Have anything particular in mind, city being what it is?"

For reasons neither Mr Barrow nor Mr Ellis could explain properly if asked, they lean ever so slightly nearer to one another: the former tilts his head at the latter, who raises his eyebrows.

"And what is that, Mr Barrow?"

"Castles. Cathedrals. The like."

"It isn't _all_ castles and cathedrals, I can tell you that much," says Mr Ellis, still pleasant, still matter-of-fact — but without the careless note that hung on his every word, before. "That is, if you're not averse to going off the beaten track."

If the tumbling manner of his words is anything to go by, Mr Barrow doesn't spare much thought before he speaks: "what makes you think I wouldn't be, Mr Ellis?"

They're close, so close they could —

"Oh! Mr Barrow, Andy was… looking for you."

Miss Baxter, a blouse slung over her arm and a carton of soap flakes in her hand, stops short at the sight before her. "Have I interrupted something?"

"No, no, not at all," says Mr Ellis, too quickly. He steps back, ducking his head. "I've work to be done, Mr Barrow, but do come find me if you decide to let your hair down for a turn, get away from the Royal ruckus…"

Before Mr Barrow can respond, he's gone down the passage.

Miss Baxter tilts her head after him. "He's got rather a silver tongue, hasn't he."

"Tell Andy that _Carson's_ in charge now," Mr Barrow says, too breathless to truly snap, and he sidesteps her and heads off in the opposite direction.

* * *

"…we can borrow a car."

"Thank you for that, Miss Baxter," says Mr Barrow, sarcastic, a flicker of irritation in his voice — but the beginnings of a smile at his lips betray his true feelings. "You gave him the last word."

"He gave himself the last word," Anna replies pointedly. "Why don't you go? I think you could do with a night out."

"In _York_?"

It dawns on Anna and Miss Baxter both that the man in front of them has come a long way, what for all he could have said and didn't at the mere suggestion he might like a break.

"Mr Ellis has been asking for Mr Barrow's company all day," says Miss Baxter, conspiratorial.

" _Has_ he been?"

"Has who been what?" says Mr Bates to his wife, setting a pair of dress shoes on the table.

Mr Barrow, smile gone, scowls at them all and leaves the room.

He's still got further to go, all things considered.

* * *

Accommodating eighteen additional people at supper proves to be trying, but ultimately manageable — the most frustrating aspect turns out to be the seating arrangement. 

For most of them.

As Mr Carson grumbles and the Royal Footmen groan, however, Mr Barrow and Mr Ellis seem perfectly content to sit across from one another and trade increasingly kittenish barbs over bread and stew (easiest way to feed an army, Royal or not).

"…not especially one for congregating at the Minster, thank you very much."

"What's this all about?" Anna asks.

The next words are muddled:

"Mr Ellis is trying to – "

"Mr Barrow doesn't think – "

"Er, you go on – "

"No, no – "

The stopping-and-starting continues for far, far longer than seems normal.

Anna clears her throat.

"Mr Barrow's coming with me into York tomorrow evening," says Mr Ellis, apologetic. "I'm trying to convince him there'll be any fun in it."

"He's been unsuccessful," Mr Barrow adds, like the narrator of a radio programme.

"Can't be much help to him, I'm afraid," says Anna, frowning. "I don't tend to think of York as fun, either…"

"And you've no reason to," Mr Bates tells her gravely.

Seeing the bewildered look on Mr Ellis's face, Anna quickly adds, "though when Lady Rose lived here it seemed to me as if she were there out dancing every night."

"Oh, I don't think Mr Barrow would care very much for that," says Mr Molesley quickly — and then he shrinks at the sharp glare from the mentioned.

"I _might."_

Mr Ellis raises his eyebrows. "You dance?"

"Very well," says Miss Baxter in his stead.

She appears to enjoy the way he shrugs, flustered.

"When I want to."

"Right, Mr Barrow, if that's so — I hear there's a hall on every corner these days, and plenty of cards to put one's name on, if it's women one's after."

If Mr Ellis notices the sudden bated hush among the Downton staff, he makes no sign of it. 

Nor does Mr Barrow, who says wryly, "well, York's hardly special for that, the dancing's just fine in Ripon."

"I wouldn't know," returns Mr Ellis. He dabs at his mouth with his napkin and grins. "I've got two left feet. Rather keep it a bloke's night, to be honest."

Mr Barrow raises his eyebrows.

"I'm quite impressed, Mr Barrow," says a Royal housemaid, "it isn't often Mr Ellis speaks humbly of himself, and you've managed it in a day."

"Try three days," says Mr Ellis, with a sly look that makes her giggle.

Across the table, Mr Barrow turns away and licks at his lips, suddenly nervous.

" – but it's true, Mr Barrow's an impressive man."

At the other end of the table, one of the Royal footmen drops a dish; this pulls attention away from the York discussion, which continues on unobserved.

For a little while, at least.

"…you must be from where, Manchester? Not exactly a city known for leisure — "

"— _blimey_ , d'you see what I have to put up with, Miss Baxter?"

"Was I the first to say uncharitable things about another man's hometown?"

Miss Baxter and the housemaid halt their just-begun-again conversation and turn toward them.

"His hometown is more in Derbyshire, really," contributes Miss Baxter helpfully. Meanwhile, the maid surveys Mr Ellis, curious.

Mr Ellis looks Mr Barrow in the eyes, a quirk in his lips. "There's not much fun to be had in _Derbyshire._ "

The resemblance is uncanny.

Mr Barrow stabs at a large chunk of potato in his stew and does a terrible job of hiding his smile.

* * *

"You can beg off, Mr Barrow, I'm not intending to hold you ransom."

"Like they'd pay it," says Mr Barrow, a touch too dark.

"It's more a question of if you'd want them to — smoke?"

They're seated across and about two feet apart from one another, dressed in shirtsleeves: Mr Ellis at the corner of his guest bed with his foot on his knee, Mr Barrow backwards in the desk chair. 

Rain pounds at the window.

The door has been left wide open.

"No, thanks."

"Mind if I do?"

"Er…"

Mr Ellis looks over at him, inclines his head — then puts his lighter back in his pocket and nods.

The soft, encouraging smile hasn't yet left his face.

"Trying to get out of the habit," says Mr Barrow, staring at the wall and fidgeting with his hands. "It's easier if – "

"No need to explain."

Mr Barrow nods; as he looks back over, the anxious set to his mouth slowly disappears.

For a moment, they simply look at one another, honest, Mr Barrow abashed and Mr Ellis gentle.

"I was going to go with you all along."

Mr Ellis's smile turns once more to a grin. "I know."

* * *

"Bring up what, if I may?"

"You may not," says Mr Wilson brusquely.

"Well, what do I say if _I'm_ asked?" Mr Ellis goes on, completely unperturbed. 

That is, unperturbed until Mr Barrow lobs him with a smooth "are you _likely_ to be asked, Mr Ellis?" and raised eyebrows, at which point he stops short with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"By someone, I'm sure," he returns eventually, smiling.

Mr Barrow laughs, which draws stares.

"But not by anyone who – "

"And how was your night in York, Mr Barrow?" Anna interrupts, sensing trouble. "As humdrum as you'd expected?"

Too quickly, Mr Barrow shovels more porridge into his mouth, likely intending to come off as though it was already there when the question was asked of him.

It comes off as though he's avoiding giving an answer.

But Mr Ellis saves the day.

"Afraid so, Mrs Bates," he says breezily. "Didn't manage to keep my end of the bargain."

"What do you mean?"

There's a pause wherein the two men only stare at one another, and then Mr Barrow swallows and says, a smirk at his face, "Mr Ellis struggles with punctuality."

Mr Carson, who has unsuccessfully been trying to appear as though he'd no awareness of this conversation taking place, scoffs.

"Oh, he's right in saying it — and by the time I'd made it around…" Mr Ellis continues, nonchalant, "well, your butler is stubborn as a mule. I'd lost my chance to show him as much of the city as I'd've liked." He pauses to sip from his tea. "But there's always a next time."

" _Is_ there," says Mr Barrow after swallowing, a strange look on his face.

"Far too proud of my old stamping grounds to leave you with that as your impression of them, Mr Barrow — I'll have to keep in touch, let you know when I'm up north in the future."

This garners raised eyebrows from the resident staff.

Mr Barrow shrugs, expression once more placid and even — as placid and even as it is when he has something on his person he'd very much prefer to keep hidden, one who knew him might note.

"Could do with a friend in a high place," he says, noncommittal. 

Mr Ellis smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> "whose pov is this" idk mine? omniscient pile of dust in the downstairs of downton abbey? idk it just happened this way


End file.
